


Take Two

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: "We can redo it..."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incorrigiblechild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrigiblechild/gifts).



> A long overdue commission giveaway prize for Luzy, who deserves a medal for her patience, tbh. Hope you enjoy, friend!
> 
> \--

Celebration was always in order for the paladins of Voltron when an enemy had been defeated. Whether it was the oppressive dark lord of all the universe's evil forces or just their own fears and weaknesses, beating any foe had a tendency to make the atmosphere inside the castle a jubilant one. And no one enjoyed a good party more than Lance. 

Sometimes, Keith would make merry right along with him. There had been more than one occasion in which Keith had dragged Lance off to a closet or dark, hidden corner to celebrate a little more privately with him, after a battle hard won. They weren't dating; Keith had made certain to establish the fact that they were by no means a couple, right from the beginning, imparting a no kissing rule, whether under the covers or under cover of darkness. No, they were just two teammates who liked to screw around, between battles. 

That night might have been another one of those occasions, if Keith hadn't been so irritated. 

Lance was always unnecessarily dramatic, during battle. From screaming into his communicator mic to slamming the blue lion into whatever he might encounter in it, he was far from the picture of grace, and rather than fine tuning his disastrous ways, he seemed to revel in them. The others had long since learned to embrace his loose-cannon style of fighting, but it never failed to get under Keith's skin, especially when Lance put his own life at risk, like he so frequently did. 

For whatever reason, that bothered Keith more than anything else Lance did. 

So while the others exchanged congratulations and patted Lance on the back for his dangerous antics, Keith quietly seethed. When Hunk prompted Lance to retell the details of the day’s fight from his perspective, Lance launched into an oration that included far too much death defying for Keith’s liking. He could hold his tongue no longer. 

“Yeah, yeah, we all saw your suicide dive,” he cut in, stopping Lance mid-sentence. The room went silent, as everyone watched Lance wheel around on his heel to glare in Keith’s direction. Keith nodded, like he was glad to have caught his attention. “It's that kind of shit that nearly gets you killed every single battle. Not to mention putting the rest of us in danger.”

“Well excuse me for celebrating.” Lance huffed dramatically. “You'd think you'd be happy after we pulled things off, today. But no, even then, you've gotta stomp around so everyone can see you sulking.”

Shrugging his armor off, Keith shook his head, shaking Lance’s salt off with the sweat of the day. “I just wish you'd cool your jets a little.”

Lance gave a dry, bitter laugh. “Jealous, much?”

“Of what?!” Keith shouted.

“The fact that everyone's stoked on me?” Lance asked, voice rising with every word. “The fact that for once, everyone can see that I'm pulling my weight? That they're proud of me, when you should be but never are?”

Keith's eyes widened, startled. “Is  _ that _ what this is about?”

“I don't know, you started it!” Lance yelped. Keith swallowed the groan that rose in his throat; Lance wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right, either. Keith desperately wanted to continue the conversation in private, so he could make Lance understand just what it did to him when he risked his life for theatrics, but Lance seemed in no hurry to let him think he was winning the argument. Rubbing hard at his temples, Keith gave a rattling sigh.

“I just don't want you to goof off and get yourself killed, asshole.”

“Like you'd care?” Lance spat, kicking the floor like he might be imagining kicking dirt in Keith’s direction. 

Keith’s eyes narrowed as his voice lowered, quiet and sharp. “You  _ know _ I would.”

“Yeah fucking right, Keith.”

It was one hard shove too far, over the line. Keith had all too often let Lance push him around in front of the others, to lash out sharp and cold, knowing it was mostly for show. This was different, though. Lance knew full well that he cared, knew that the only reason he was so upset was that the image of Lance plummeting to his death in the blue lion was one that regularly haunted his nightmares. 

While Keith was unprepared to say that he loved Lance - or had ever loved anyone, in fact - Lance knew that he cared about him, and to deny it in front of the others made Keith’s blood boil. 

Part of him wanted to scream, to spill embarrassing secrets about their candid moments together all over the floor where Lance's harsh words had been spilt. Another part wanted to leave, to dash out of the room and head for solitude, where he could work through his anger without hurting anyone else. Instead though, he settled for the only thing that felt right in that moment; he grabbed Lance, pulled him into his arms with everyone standing watch, and kissed him.

In his arms, Lance went rigid. It had been Keith’s insistence that had kept them from ever kissing, before. Despite the fact that they'd sucked and screwed one another on nearly every flat surface in the castle of lions, something about the emotional intimacy of kissing made Keith’s skin crawl, and he had outlawed it from the first time they'd laid hands on one another. So when he pulled Lance hard against him and smashed their lips together, he'd expected some resistance, and yet in that moment, nothing else could have satisfied his desires. 

It was over almost as quickly as it had started, Lance’s lips barely parting before Keith withdrew from him and released his hold. They stumbled apart, Lance’s eyes wide and his mouth going slowly slack, before his eyes drew down into a hard and blistering scowl. Dragging the back of his arm across his lips defiantly, he all but growled, stuttering through a shout at Keith.

“You - we said - I can't believe you.” When he back away further, Keith moved closer, beginning to chase him without realizing it. 

“Had to shut you up somehow.”

“Don't talk to me, dude.” Lance growled, the edges of his voice unraveling, beginning to shake. “Don't touch me, don't come anywhere  _ near _ me.”

Lance bolted from the room, leaving Keith standing at its center with every pair of eyes on him. Left with no alternative, Keith left abruptly as well, eager to get out from under their stares, but in no hurry to join Lance, wherever he might have gone. 

Keith headed for his own bedroom, stomach souring at the way it smelled like Lance from so many overnight visits. He closed his door, turned down his lights, and closed his eyes as he sat down on the edge of his bed, making strident efforts to collect his thoughts. Somewhere, Lance was furious with him, possibly still in tears, and Keith wasn't entirely sure why. For his part, he sat there waiting to understand, as numbness robbed him of the next few hours. 

Stunned silence was his only companion for the rest of the evening, and accompanied him into dark and dreamless sleep.

\--

Keith had hoped that whatever had caused Lance to throw such a fit would have settled into the realm of forgiveness between them by the following day. In fact though, Lance was nowhere in sight for much of it, seemingly holed up in his sleeping quarters, right through breakfast and lunch. Hunk was sent to check on him at several points, but never came back with anything useful to report - at least nothing he would say in front of Keith. When Hunk and Shiro took Lance dinner, together, Keith realized something was definitely different about this particular argument. 

Truthfully, he didn't know what. All he was sure of was that Lance had endangered his own life, yet again, and more than deserved to be called out for it in front of the others. Surely with as many times as they'd lived this same scenario, that wasn't what was causing Lance to act so wronged. Keith tore into him in front of the rest of the team on a regular basis, and he wasn't by any stretch of the imagination the only one to do so. So why on earth would Lance kick up such a fuss about it? 

He genuinely didn't understand. 

One thing Keith did know was that he had broken his own rule. It had been his idea for the two of them not to kiss, not to become romantically involved and drag messy, problematic feelings into the mix, when they had a perfectly good thing, simply meeting one another's physical needs. He had been so careful to keep that from happening, and then he'd let his fear of losing Lance push him over that boundary in front of everyone on the ship. No matter how hard he tried to ignore or deny it, Keith couldn't stop thinking about the sweet warmth of Lance's lips, and of how much he wanted to kiss them again. 

Though if things didn't change, he wondered if he would ever get the chance. 

That evening at dinner, everyone seemed tense, but no one more so than Lance, who sat poking at his food to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Allura attempted to engage him in conversation, as did Coran, but the other paladins offered him only silence in return for his own, and Keith was no different. He wouldn't have known what to say, even if he had wanted to. 

Somehow, in the stretch of quiet that spanned their dinner, he found himself wishing for Lance's usual jabs, an almost delusional desire coming over him to make Lance upset, just to hear him speak again. He did not act on it, and when Lance got up from the table to leave before anyone else, Keith sat in place, watching without protest as he went. 

When dinner was at an end, he gathered up his things and headed to the training decks, hoping for a distraction and some solitude of his own. 

\--

Keith liked the way the training rooms echoed. 

When he was the only person there, something about the sound of training bots clattering against the floors and walls or his own fists landing against punching bags filled him with satisfaction. No one needed to get hurt, but he could vent all of his frustration with the hand life had dealt him by smashing something against the nearest hard surface, and in the vast, empty air of the training rooms, he could hear the result. 

He had a lot of frustration to vent, that evening. 

After finishing a dozen levels with the training bot and punching a bag until his knuckles were swelling, Keith leaned against the taut rope that ran alongside the sparring arena, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. Laboring through it, he didn't hear the approach of footsteps until they were upon him, alerted instead by the sound of a familiar voice. Shiro stood on the other side of the rope, looking him up and down.

“You've been down here for hours,” he frowned, harder when Keith shrugged him off. “What exactly are you trying to achieve?”

“Just blowing off steam.” Keith replied. He did not give Shiro his full attention, but then Shiro didn't push for it, either. 

“You're gonna break something if you're not careful.” Shiro warned. “And I'm not talking about the robots.”

Keith huffed through his nose, irritated. “I know what I'm doing, Shiro.” He stood and straightened , ignoring the beginnings of an ache across his shoulders and back. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Shiro’s mothering. He rolled his neck and moved back to the center of the mat, doing his best to appear busy. “Just give me some space.”

“How about I give you a sparring partner, instead?” Shiro suggested. He went still, waiting for Keith’s reply. Considering whether or not he'd actually be left alone if he said no - and deciding that he likely wouldn't - Keith relented. 

“Alright. Fine.”

A moment later, they were in the sparring ring, Shiro looking far more energized than Keith felt. Keith managed to block a few of Shiro’s initial jabs, but the sharper his aim became, the weaker Keith was against him. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping as Shiro landed a solid swipe. 

“Focus, Keith.” Shiro reminded him, the very words setting his teeth on edge. “You're not breathing through your movements. You can't stay focused if you can't even breathe.” 

They continued sparring, Keith’s mind growing as tired as his aching body of Shiro’s relentless onslaught of questions and quips. He was growing sloppy, but he trusted that Shiro wouldn't harm him too much. Even if he did deserve it.

“This is about Lance, isn't it?” Shiro cornered him, his back against the padded railing of the roped-in sparring mat. Keith ducked, only to be caught and plucked up and into the air, deposited down again on his feet in front of Shiro. With a sharp sigh, Shiro nodded. “Thought so. What's going on?”

“I don't wanna talk about it.”

“You don't have to, with me. But you need to talk about it with him.”

“He doesn't even wanna be in the same room with me right now.” Keith said. He stepped out of Shiro’s reach, barely missing a swing. Swallowing, he spoke through gritted teeth. “I'm not going looking for him.” 

Shiro shook his head, backing up, as if baiting Keith to follow him into the center of the ring. “We can't work as a team if you two aren't getting along.” 

“We've never gotten along,” Keith spat, growing impatient with Shiro’s lecture. He knew he was being toyed with, but he followed him out into open space regardless, almost out of spite. “We do just fine.”

“The last few days say otherwise. Go find him and talk to him, Keith.” When Keith huffed and took a shaky swing at Shiro, it was easy for Shiro to block and catch it. Keith should have expected it, really. What caught him off guard was the feeling of flying, head over feet as he was flipped and taken to the mat in one sudden motion. Lying on his back, he looked up at Shiro, who was holding him in place with a firm, flat expression and a firmer tone of voice. “Go. That's an order.”

Released, Keith lay still for another moment before finally peeling himself up off the mat, nodding sourly. 

“Fine.”

\--

When Lance went missing, Keith usually knew where to find him. 

It wasn't because he considered himself any sort of expert on Lance’s behavior, nor did he see himself as a particularly understanding person. He just knew the ship. The Castle of Lions was large, but not infinite in its space, and after months upon months of calling it home, Keith knew it well enough to get around blind if he had to, and more than sufficiently to know where his teammates favorite places to loiter were. 

And Lance was nothing, if not predictable. 

Keith found him where he knew he would, sitting on a narrow catwalk that ran alongside a stories-high window, on one of the castle ship’s upper floors. Lance liked to look at the stars around them, though Keith had never worked out why; it always ended with Lance in tears about how far they were from home. That night though, he wagered that Lance’s tears had little to do with homesickness. 

He tapped on the glass to rouse Lance from his thoughts, receiving only a short glance before Lance turned back to the window, glaring. 

“Hey,” Keith mumbled, a louder sound than he'd anticipated, in the silence of the room. Lance did not look up, or offer any expression with his harsh reply.

“What do you want?”

“Was looking for you.” Keith said. “Can we talk?” Still, Lance did not move. 

“Don't really feel like it, honestly.”

Keith moved a step closer, halting when Lance visibly winced at his proximity. He leaned against the sturdy glass of the window, sighing. “I can't fix things if you won't even let me talk to you.”

Finally, Lance turned to look at him, sniffling hard. “You can't  _ fix things, _ Keith. I'm pissed and you're not gonna change that with some bullshit apology.”

“What are you even pissed about?!” Keith asked, though it came out sounding much more like a demand. “I legitimately have no idea and you won't tell me anything.”

“You seriously don't know?” Lance hissed, eyebrows shooting up into his shaggy, overgrown bangs. It might have been cute, if he didn't look like a man teetering on the edge of screaming and crying. “God, you're such an idiot.” When Keith still made no move to respond, Lance gave a guttural groan, dragging his hand down over his face before launching into an explanation.

“That was my first real kiss with you, Keith. My first real kiss,  _ ever.  _ You said you didn't wanna kiss - that was your rule, right from the beginning. We weren't allowed to kiss. I've held myself back so many times because you didn't want my mouth on yours for god knows what reason, and then you go and just… take it? In front of everyone? You didn't even ask! Like I wouldn't have cared if you weren't always such a dick about it, but- God, just. Forget it. Go away.”

“That was your first kiss?” 

“Yeah, fuck off.” Lance grumbled, pulling his knees in toward his chest. “I shouldn't have even  _ told _ you that, but - God, you make my head all fuzzy.”

“We can redo it…” Keith began, sinking onto the floor to sit a few feet away from him. Lance turned back toward him with a snap of his head so sharp it was nearly audible. 

“What?!” 

“We can redo it,” Keith repeated. “Your first kiss, I mean. We can do it again and make it better.”

Lance shook his head, sputtering. “You d-- You  _ can't _ just redo the first time, dumbass. That's not how it works.”

Keith stared back at him, unimpressed with his logic. “Why?”

“Wh-  _ because! _ It was my  _ first _ kiss. I can't just pretend it wasn't.”

“I don't see why not.” Keith contended. “It was my first, too. I don't care at all to say the first one didn't count.”

“It… It was  _ your _ first one, too?” Lance asked. Keith took the moment of stillness to move closer, if only by a fraction of an inch.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “First real one. But I'm not gonna count it, because you didn't like it.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and for a moment Keith was certain that Lance was going to reject the idea outright. But then he was scooting closer, a softness on his face that gave away just how vulnerable he was, then. He stared at Keith for a long moment, searching him, then looked out the windows again, shifting in place. 

“I don't - I mean… I guess you can do that.  _ We _ can do that.”

Keith didn't wait for any further prompting. In one slow but deliberate motion, he reached forward to cup Lance’s chin in his hands, bring their noses to bump against one another in a way that was painfully sweet. Lingering there, he smiled, just a little as he looked down at Lance’s lips and then back up to meet his gaze. There was a question in his eyes, and Lance nodded before it had the chance to be heard. Softly, Keith leaned forward the last breath of an inch between them, pressing his lips to Lance's with all the tender warmth Lance had ever dreamt he might have in him. 

There was a quiet sigh between them as Lance let his lips part to welcome Keith's mouth to slot against his, and he couldn't be sure which of them had done it. But then he was laughing between kisses, tickled by the featherlight touch of Keith’s tongue, warm against his lips, and he nearly had to pull away, as his smile grew too wide for the kiss. He returned to it with vigor though, as Keith’s arms wound around his neck, one hand swirling fingers into Lance’s hair as Keith hummed happily into his mouth. When they finally did part, Keith was beautifully flushed, lips dark pink and glistening in the low light, and the backdrop of distant stars and galaxies beyond the window they sat in front of only served to make it a moment all the more perfect, all the more unimaginable. 

And yet, it was real. Lance brought fingertips to his own lips, feeling the way they tingled beneath his touch, unable to stop himself grinning. Before him, Keith smiled in return. 

“Better?” He asked, reaching up to trace his own thumb across Lance’s pretty lips. Suddenly he couldn't wait to kiss them again, addicted as he knew he would be, once he'd gotten a taste.

“Much.” Lance replied honestly. “Where've you been hiding  _ that?” _

Keith shrugged, genuinely lost for an answer as he spoke softly in the quiet of the empty room around them. “Wanna come to my room?”

Lance choked on a laugh, the spell of the moment entirely broken. “You don't know shit about foreplay, dude.”

“You’ve sat on my dick before breakfast on more than one occasion,  _ dude _ ,” Keith said flatly. “I don't give a shit what you think of my foreplay.”

“Touché.” Lance said, stroking his chin as he weighed his options. As if he really had any more promising ones to consider…

“I'll meet you there in like ten minutes.”

\--

“What's all this?”

When Lance stepped into Keith's room a full  _ twenty _ minutes later, he found Keith waiting, looking oddly anxious. His expression was made all the more odd in its contrast to the confidently arranged bed, dressed in satiny sheets and plush, clean blankets that Lance had never seen before. The lighting was muted, soft and almost purple, lighting Keith's uneasy face beautifully. Lance swallowed as he motioned toward the bed, the lights, and then finally at Keith, who looked upon further inspection like he'd cleaned himself up as well, in the short span of time. Keith sucked in a deep breath, swallowing. 

“I thought it would be… romantic, I guess?” He shrugged, suddenly doubting himself. “Sorry if it's stupid.”

“No it’s--” Lance stepped into his space immediately, catching himself before he laid hands on Keith. He looked down at Keith’s bed, then back up at his expression, biting his lip around a smile that melted straight through Keith’s defenses. “It's actually really sweet, honestly.” Lance prodded him in the chest, smirking and looking more like himself, than he had in days. “Last thing I would've expected out of you. But I like it.” Finally, he clasped hands over Keith’s shoulders, sliding open palms down his arms and over his chest before returning them to wrap around his neck, pulling their bodies flush against one another. His voice was soft and low, a sound to match the lighting in the room. “I like you.”

“I like you too,” Keith replied honestly. “I like you a lot.”

With a soft sigh, Keith let his lips part to meet Lance’s as they kissed. They had all the time in the universe, and yet they moved like two people running out of it, hands fisting in shirts and fingers twisting in hair as their pulses quickened. When they broke apart, Lance wore a familiar, hungry expression, and Keith was peeling off his shirt and watching Lance do the same before either of them thought to say a word. 

“Can we?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded, not bothering to hide his eagerness. 

“You gonna let me kiss you this time?” He grinned, shimmying out of his pants. They hit the floor just as Keith reached for his own belt. 

“Gonna let you kiss me anytime you want,” he replied, groaning at the wolfish grin on Lance's face. “Within reason.”

Lance ditched his underwear without ceremony, drinking in the sight of Keith undressing in front of him. “You and I both know we have different thoughts on ‘reason’, red ranger.” Keith rolled his eyes, settling on his bed, naked. 

“Don't remind me,” he deadpanned, but his expression was a fond one as he reached out to beckon Lance closer. Lance didn't need to be asked twice. He crawled into Keith’s lap, humming with satisfaction at the way Keith shuddered beneath him. 

“Warm me up,” he said, a husky whisper, and Keith's eyes fluttered closed on reflex, terribly unhelpful as he slapped around the edge of his mattress looking for lubricant. They kept a small bottle in each bedroom, a skin-safe salve Coran had given them for purposes undoubtedly different than what they used it for. It worked though, and when Keith's fingers found the slick, rounded edge of the bottle he sighed, body already tingling at the mere thought of his fingers inside of Lance. He coated two fingers in the slick mess, working them into Lance one at a time. 

_ “God,  _ that's good,” Lance gasped, head rolling back as he held tight to Keith’s shoulders. Raised up in Keith’s lap, he worked himself down onto two fingers and then three, until it simply wasn't enough, anymore. Panting, he lifted Keith’s chin to look him in the eye. “C’mon.  _ Fuck me.” _

Slicking his cock with a handful of the lube before tossing the bottle aside, Keith nodded and lined himself up with Lance's entrance, holding him as he rocked his hips and sank slowly into Keith’s lap. No sooner had he seated himself than he tightened around Keith, shuddering as goose bumps raised across beautiful, brown skin. Keith fought the urge to try to kiss every inch, already losing himself to the moment. Never before had he understood the term ‘lovemaking’, but with Lance winding arms around his neck and pressing kisses to the top of his head, he finally grasped the meaning. 

Determined to make it good for Lance as well, he brought himself back to the moment, rolling his hips upward and relishing the stuttering cries the movement pulled out of Lance. Sinking fingertips hard into the plush, padded flesh of Lance’s ass, he raised him up slightly, letting him go again as he repeated the canting of his hips, this time to an even more enthusiastic response. When Lance choked out a broken whine of his name, Keith began to lose his grip, both on Lance and on his own control. His hips snapped upward of their own accord, and then he was lost to it, entirely. 

Moaning without shame, Lance bounced in his lap as Keith railed into him, babbling nonsense and peppering Keith with praise as he rode his cock. Heart slamming in his chest, Keith grabbed at Lance for some semblance of an anchor, dragging blunt nails down his back as he murmured pretty curses against his chest. Lance arched hard into him, swearing as he began to tighten around him, whispering a warning that he was nearing the edge. Keith pressed teeth against his shoulder, his chest and his neck, marking him with bruises as Lance fought against himself to hold off his peak. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer, and he came with a cry of Keith's name, Keith following after him, seconds after.

Lance rocked in his lap for a long moment afterward, clinging to Keith as they caught their breath. With Keith's help, he wiggled out of his lap, stretching out on the bed and lifting his hips to allow Keith to rest a clean towel beneath him. Lance yawned, body still pulsing everywhere; he reached for Keith, who gladly took his place beside him on the bed.

They lay that way for a long moment, until Keith's mind descended from the high Lance had lifted it to, reminding him that there were things that needed discussing. He rolled up on his side, half onto Lance’s chest, and looked down at him.

“Are we, um… Is everything okay, now?”

Lance cracked one eye open. He didn't so much as pause to think before nodding. “I’d say so.”

“Good.” Keith let his head fall onto Lance’s shoulder, sighing at the sound of their frantic heartbeats beginning to slow. He could have easily drifted off to sleep, lying there, but something prodded at the back of his mind, begging to be brought up before he could rest. “Hey Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance said sleepily. Keith didn't raise up from where he lay.

“You wanna be boyfriends or whatever?”

“Boyfriends Or Whatever,” Lance parroted, snorting. “The title I've always wanted.”

“Clearly I made a mistake, asking.” Keith groaned. Ignoring him entirely, Lance pulled him close.

“Depends,” he hummed. “Do I still get to rip on you in front of everybody?” 

Keith huffed a laugh. “Aren't you going to, anyway?”

“Point taken.” Lance grinned. He pressed a kiss to Keith’s forehead, and then his lips, still enamored with the fact that he could. Pulling back just far enough for Keith to see the smile in his eyes, Lance whispered, “Yeah, I'll be your boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Cool,” Keith said. “Likewise, then.”

Letting his arms fall dramatically to either side, Lance sighed in mock offense. “You've got  _ so _ much to learn about romance.”

Keith shrugged. “I've got a good teacher.” Beneath him, Lance preened. 

“Aww, thanks babe.”

“I meant Shiro, but I guess you're fine, too.”

“Get out of my bed.” Lance pushed Keith off of him, bumping him further toward the edge with his hip. Beside him, Keith pushed up onto his arms, scowling.

“This is  _ my _ bed.”

Lance shrugged, pulling the covers up over his head. “Hostile takeover.”

“You're an ass.” Keith sighed. Beneath the blankets, Lance snorted. 

“You love me.”

“I really think I do,” Keith said honestly, and suddenly Lance was sitting bolt upright, a smile spreading across his face.

“Good. I love you, too.” He reached out to cup Keith’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a sloppy, exuberant kiss that he broke with laughter a moment later. Keith couldn't stop himself smiling at the sight. 

“I’m glad we're on the same page,” he said, satisfied. “Now - scoot over.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance did as he was told, lifting the blankets to allow his boyfriend-or-whatever to join him underneath. “So romantic,” he teased, and curled tighter against Keith before falling asleep, happier than he had ever thought possible in the depths of space. Maybe it had taken a couple of tries, but then so did anything worth having.

Keith fell asleep smiling as well, silently grateful to share his bed for the foreseeable future.  

 


End file.
